


Love Song

by ThereBeWhalesHere



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fluff, Jealous!Jim, Love Confessions, Lyre Thirst, M/M, Music, Pining, Poetry, Romance, Very Bad Poetry Captain, alcohol tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9217757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereBeWhalesHere/pseuds/ThereBeWhalesHere
Summary: A lovestruck Jim gets worried when Spock and Uhura start spending more time together, but he's almost definitely wrong about their reasons for doing so. This whole thing is so shamelessly corny.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In answer to the prompt by Tumblr user colonelcaroldanvers: "I've never heard this song before."
> 
> This, like everything I write, got bigger than expected because I'm incapable of writing anything shorter than 2000 words, apparently. Anyway, it's literally so corny. I hope you enjoy!

When Spock and Uhura began spending time together-- a  _ lot _ of time-- Jim really shouldn’t have been surprised. Uhura was one of the few members of the bridge crew that didn’t tease Spock, didn’t joke whenever his Vulcan control slipped, didn’t mention his green blood or pointed ears. She was also intelligent on a level that could relate to Spock, and it was obvious Spock respected her.

 

But Spock only ever spent his free time with Jim, at least historically, so the change in routine did not go unnoticed. As a friend, Jim should have been glad to see Spock socialize with others. It was good for him, despite his protests. But for the majority of this mission (nearly two full years now) Spock’s socialization had been somewhat limited to the chess matches he shared with Jim and occasional meals with other officers in the mess. But now, he had Uhura.

 

Jim had the dignity, and the self-awareness, to admit that he was jealous. It wasn’t like he was lonely-- he had Bones and Scotty and Sulu and a few other folks with whom he routinely spent time-- but he selfishly liked the idea of Spock having  _ him _ . 

 

_ Just _ him. 

 

Spock was so self-sufficient and self-assured, it was nice to be needed by him, at least for something. Jim had come to terms with the implications of that particular emotional beast a long time ago. He liked the feeling of being needed, but he loved the feeling of being needed by Spock.

 

The first time Spock had blown him off for Uhura, Jim had taken it in stride. They’d been riding down the turbolift after alpha shift, and Jim had suggested a quick game of chess to wind down. Spock had shifted once on his feet, then said something along the lines of “I have already committed to another engagement for the evening.” 

 

At the time, Jim had thought Spock was talking about working some extra hours in the lab, which he often did during his leisure time. He’d promised Spock no hard feelings and moved on with his night.

 

Until he’d caught sight of them in the mess hall. Jim had called Bones up for a bite to eat, now that the chess game he’d planned was off the books, but the moment they walked into the room, his eyes fell as if by instinct on Spock, huddled with Uhura over a datapadd at one of the far tables. It looked almost conspiratory, secretive, and certainly intimate. Uhura smiled as she typed something into the padd, then Spock said something that made her laugh. Jim watched her lift her bright eyes to Spock and he stiffened. 

 

Then Bones grabbed his shoulder to turn him around, giving him a pointed look as if to say without saying it,  _ don’t read into this. _

 

The thing was, Bones knew. He’d known for some time. Jim had finally told him over a glass of whiskey (or, well, a few glasses of whiskey) a few months prior that his feelings for Spock had begun to edge past professional, over the line of friendly, and into something dangerously approaching infatuation. 

 

He’d been in one of those moods where he was sure that he would explode if he didn’t tell Spock how he felt, but he desperately needed Bones to talk him out of it. The good doctor had done as much (after choking and sputtering and informing Jim that he no longer trusted his taste in romantic partners), and had listened to Jim’s lovesick rambling for much longer than duty required. He was a good friend. 

 

So the night after the encounter in the mess hall and then after four  _ more _ evenings being shot down by Spock, Jim found refuge in Bones’ office. Partly for his emotional support and partly for his large stock of non-synthetic alcoholic substances.

 

“I don’t think they’re a couple,” Bones grumbled for the hundredth time that night, refilling his glass from the brandy bottle they’d been nursing.

 

Jim stared glumly at his own drink, feeling heartsick. “As if you could tell,” he sighed, “you didn’t think Janice and Lieutenant Masters were a couple, and they’re getting married next year.”

 

Bones tossed his hand in the air, rolling his eyes. “I can’t be expected to keep track of the whole crew’s romantic entanglements-- I’d never get a lick of work done. But I know Spock. And I know Uhura. They’re friendly, but they’re not  _ that _ friendly.”

 

“She’s gone to his quarters four nights in a row,” Jim lamented, pushing his glass away and putting his face in his hands. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, feeling more worn-out than an average day should’ve allowed for. Emotional exhaustion was a difficult enemy to conquer, and he was certainly losing.

 

Bones raised an eyebrow at him, then brought his glass to his lips. “How do you even know that?”

 

Jim shrugged. “We all get off duty at the same time, and all our quarters are on the same deck. It’s like an apartment complex. Everyone knows everyone’s business.”

 

“Or they  _ think  _ they do,” Bones corrected. He shoved Jim’s glass closer to him, as though attempting to remind him it existed. “I’ll bet my bottom dollar you’re reading too much into things. There’s probably-- and God help me for saying so-- a  _ logical  _ explanation for all this.”

 

With a sigh, Jim reluctantly took up his glass again. “Sometimes the most obvious solution is the correct solution, Doctor,” Jim said lamely, and Bones tossed a stylus at him.

 

“Now you’re even starting to sound like him. Buck up, Jim.”

 

But bucking up didn’t look to be happening. The Cold Shoulder lasted more than a week. It wasn’t as though Spock wasn’t talking to him-- they worked together just fine and he seemed (as much as Spock could ‘seem’ anything) to genuinely regret turning down Jim’s invitations night after night. 

 

But whether he regretted it or not, he still turned them down. Jim found himself watching Uhura out of the corner of his eye during downtime on the bridge, noting her gracefulness, the poise with which she held herself and spoke. It was no wonder, of course, that Spock would choose her. And he didn’t have to wonder why she would choose Spock. As far as he was concerned, it was a miracle half the ship wasn’t in love with the man.

 

Jim ended up spending a lot of time in the rec room to distract himself in the evenings. He challenged a few crewmen to a few games of chess, sat and talked about the ship with Scotty, and mostly just tried to prove to himself that he could have a perfectly fulfilling and adequate social life without Spock’s easy company. But there was always something lacking.

 

Thankfully one such night-- after almost two weeks of hardly seeing the man off-shift-- the doors to the rec room slid open, and Spock stepped through with his lyre in-hand.

 

Jim had been sitting with Bones and Christine, talking idly about their last shore leave and how the facilities’ simulated environments had felt almost like Earth. When Spock walked in, he completely dropped the thread of the conversation, eyes focusing in on the Vulcan and thinking foolishly that maybe he could convince him to join them.

 

He’d already started raising his hand to wave when Uhura walked in behind Spock. Heart sinking, Jim stopped himself mid-motion and felt the comforting, if awkward, pat of Bones’ hand on his back. 

 

The room wasn’t exactly crowded, but there were a good twenty or so folks milling about to draw the couple's attention. It turned out, though, that they were there to draw attention themselves.

 

“Alright, everyone,” Uhura’s musical voice sang out. She strode confidently into the middle of the room where a vacant table lay, wearing a bright smile, hips swaying softly. “I hope you’re ready for a performance!” She held out her arms like a showman, taking in the room at large.

 

A smattering of applause answered her, but most people just looked confused. Uhura was prone to random bursts of song-- it was one of her most endearing qualities, but seldom did she announce herself. Jim shifted his eyes to Spock, who had followed Uhura quietly and now took a chair from the table and settled it beside her. He sank into it and began fiddling with his harp. 

 

Spock lifted his eyes only briefly, meeting Jim’s before looking away. Jim could swear there was a green tint to his cheeks.

 

“We’ve got something very special in mind tonight,” she said, tapping her nose with a perfectly manicured finger. Then, she turned to Jim’s table and pointed-- at Christine. “And I need you in particular to listen.”

 

Jim shot a glance at the nurse, noting the way her cheeks flushed and she thinned her lips to hide a smile. 

 

Uhura glanced back to Spock, who met her eyes. The two shared a beat, then Spock began to play his lyre.

 

It wasn’t often Jim had the pleasure of listening to Spock play music. He could probably count on one hand the times he had. But each time he’d been struck by the gracefulness of his fingers, the delicacy with which he handled the strings, the way his eyes would half-close and his head would sway almost imperceptibly with the tune. He began to pluck out a soft, wistful melody, something that lilted over the air.

 

The room had gone silent, each person enraptured by the sound. None so much as Jim, though. He thought his mouth had gone dry, but he could hardly be bothered to pay attention to it now, not when Spock was cradling that instrument in his arms with the same gentle strength Jim had admired from afar all this time.

 

Then, Uhura began to sing, the clear bell of her voice a backdrop to the beat of Jim’s heart and the lilt of Spock’s lyre.

 

_ I never know quite where to go in a universe this size _

_ So I’ve wandered lifetimes through its stars, now reflected in your eyes _

 

_ And I know I’ll go on wandering, but please stay by my side _

_ I’m never lost when you are by my side _

 

_ You always say we’re lucky to have the heavens to explore _

_ But even with the boundless sky, I’ve always wanted more _

_ For what good are these billion lights if the brightest one is you? _

_ What good are these endless worlds if I can’t share the view? _

 

_ I’ve been so long wandering, but please stay by my side _

_ I’m never lost when you are by my side _

 

_ The only guiding light I’ve found is the one within your smile _

_ And I’ve followed you everywhere, my love, wishing all the while _

_ That you might see me in your shadow and cast your light on me _

_ That you might take my hand in yours and swim this starry sea _

 

_ So darling if you’ll have me, let’s step into the sky _

_ I’ll always know just where to go if I can follow your light _

 

_ And I’ll surely go on wandering, but you’ll be by my side _

_ I’m never lost when we are side by side _

 

The last word was almost a sigh, bright and longing and beautiful, and if Jim had been looking at her he would’ve noticed the way her eyes met Christine’s. And if Jim had been looking at Christine, he would’ve noticed her standing. But he wasn’t looking at either of them. He was looking at Spock, heart aching as he watched him pluck the last quiet chords of the song.

 

Then, Spock looked directly at him, eyes catching his own and holding them, an intensity to them that Jim had never seen. Or, rather, maybe he  _ had _ seen it before and only now recognized it for what it was.

 

The whole room joined in applause, many getting to their feet. It was enough to shake Jim from his reverie. He pulled his attention from Spock to see Christine moving toward Uhura, a grin wide on her face that made Jim smile, too. The two women shared an embrace and a soft kiss, and finally Jim remembered to start clapping. 

 

They were laughing, Christine wiping a tear from her eye as Uhura wound her arms around her waist. He couldn’t hear what they were saying over the din of applause, but he had a feeling this was the first Uhura had ever told Christine about her feelings. How had she been daring enough to do it with an audience when Jim couldn’t do more than flirt and tease, like a schoolboy with his first crush?

 

But then, that was Uhura. Always daring. In retrospect, he should’ve guessed she’d been interested in Christine this whole time. But like Bones (who was now on his feet, clapping loudly with a boyish grin on his face), he didn’t have the time to follow everyone’s romantic entanglements. He had enough trouble with his own. 

 

Which drew him back to Spock, who had stood from his seat to give the happy couple their space. Now, as the applause begin to die down, he drifted somewhat in Jim’s direction. Jim managed to stand, something like fear or anticipation making his heart flutter.

 

He circled round the nearest table, and sidled up to Spock, his smile still in place. Spock acknowledged him with a nod, and Jim could swear he saw his fingers tighten around the instrument he still held.

 

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard that song before,” Jim said almost playfully, close enough to nudge Spock with his elbow if he could get up the courage to do so.

 

The line of Spock’s lips softened into his own kind of smile. “I would be surprised if you had,” he said, voice low enough that Jim had to lean in to hear him over the sound of excited conversation that had sprung up in the absence of applause. “It is an original composition. Lieutenant Uhura’s and mine.”

 

“So that’s what you’ve been up to all this time?”

 

“Jim,” Spock said, and Jim practically glowed. Normally he had to half-beg Spock to use his name off-duty. “One week and five days hardly warrants so dramatic a statement as ‘all this time.’”

 

Jim laughed, all the tension of fear and jealousy leaving the lines of his shoulders. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding all that in until it blissfully left him. “Well, I’ve missed our chess matches. Though I suppose, of all reasons to steal you away, love is a pretty good one.”

 

Perhaps he imagined it when he saw Spock’s eyes flick away from his face for a moment, but he didn’t think so.

 

“Now I must ask, Mister Spock,” Jim asked, inching minutely closer, suddenly emboldened by both Uhura’s courage and what he suspected was Spock’s too, “which of you was responsible for those emotional lyrics?”

 

Now Jim was  _ sure _ he wasn’t imagining it. There was something like discomfort, or maybe embarrassment, in the way Spock shifted his weight and pulled his eyes away from Jim. “Both the lyrics and the composition were a true collaborative effort. When the Lieutenant expressed her purposes to me and requested my assistance, I found I was able to-- to relate. With the emotions she wished to express.”

 

It was no wonder Spock was keeping his voice low. That was perhaps the most open he’d been about his feelings to Jim in two years, and they were surrounded by people. Luckily, no one was paying attention to them.

 

“Oh?” Jim found himself asking, some of the playfulness leaving his tone with his nerves, but not absent entirely from his next tease, “I didn’t know you were interested in Christine.”

 

Spock’s embarrassment seemed to be replaced by an emotion Jim was far more used to seeing in the carefully controlled lines at the corner of his eyes-- fond irritation.

 

“I am certainly not interested in Nurse Chapel,” Spock said, though the assurance was unnecessary. Jim thought he knew that now.

 

“Then, Mister Spock, you can likely guess at the next question I’m going to ask.”

 

“For whom did I intend the lyrics?”

 

Jim chuckled, nudging Spock with his shoulder. “For whom did you intend the lyrics?” he echoed.

 

Spock’s cheeks took on a subtle color, and Jim felt a mix of triumph, affection, disbelief and elation soaring through him like wind had just filled his sails.

 

“Perhaps,” Spock said gently, “this is a conversation more suited for a private venue.”

 

Jim glanced around the room, noting that Uhura and Christine had taken a seat at the table with Bones and were now chatting happily, holding hands. As Jim’s eyes fell on them, Uhura glanced up and gave he and Spock a wink.

 

He _felt_ more than saw Spock stiffen beside him.

 

Satisfied that he wouldn’t be leaving Bones entirely alone, he let his gaze return to Spock, unashamedly now. “Chess?” he suggested lightly, knowing even as he said it that it was unlikely they’d be playing, considering how much there was to discuss.

 

“That would be satisfactory,” Spock said, the look in his eyes suggesting that he knew the same.

 

They turned to make their way out of the rec room, and finally Jim felt the simple completion that came with Spock at his side once again. He found the courage to brush the backs of Spock’s knuckles with his own as the door swished shut behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: Warpfactornonsense, whose art is just CHOICE, drew [a scene from this story](https://warpfactornonsense.tumblr.com/post/174355435917/hi-um-just-an-fyi-your-art-makes-me-so-happy-and) because they're a literal angel. Please feast your eyes???


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